Don't Trust a Guy In Pink - 2p! England vs England and America
by HetaliaAddict424
Summary: Arthur Kirkland was in for the surprise of his life after his friend Alfred accepted to befriend Arthur's evil counterpart, Oliver. Alfred thought he looked trustworthy, but soon found out he wasn't when he was poisoned by a cupcake. Now the two are being held hostage by a psychopath, and are desperately trying to escape. Will they make it out alive?
1. Chapter 1: Unsuspecting

((In this fanfiction, I use the character's human names, so if you don't know them, here they are! England = Arthur Kirkland, America = Alfred F. Jones, 2p England = Oliver Kirkland))

It was a Saturday afternoon. The sun had risen to the peak of the sky, and back down again. Arthur Kirkland sat alone on his front porch, newspaper in one hand, a cup of afternoon tea in the other. He had been enjoying a quiet afternoon in the shade, until a sudden commotion caused him to jump, sending the cup of tea crashing to the floor.

"Yo! Arthur! Bro! What're you doing?" Alfred Jones came stampeding up the steps to the porch, carelessly approaching a clearly irritated Arthur. He sighed annoyedly.

"Well, I was enjoying a nice, quiet evening, up until a few seconds ago." Arthur swiftly took hold of the broom that was propped up on the corner of the porch and swept up the shards of the broken tea cup.

"Dude, you're so boring! Do something that isn't completely lame for once!" Alfred laughed good-naturedly as Arthur folded up the newspaper and sat back down in his chair with a sigh.

"Like what? Got any suggestions?" Arthur asked, even though he didn't really care at all. Alfred was about to speak, when they were interrupted by more footsteps approaching. The two looked in the direction in which the sound came from, and saw what looked like a young man with light strawberry-blonde hair, a pink vest with a blue bowtie, and piercing blue eyes. He looked an awful lot like Arthur. He approached with a rather insincere looking smile. Arthur's expression darkened to one of complete distaste. He stood, defensively.

"Oliver. Oliver Kirkland." He scowled. Alfred's reaction was completely different. He was terrible at reading the mood.

"Oh, hey! Are you a friend of Arthur's?" He smiled while waving his arm around in the air in a spastic hello. Oliver stepped up onto the porch, ignoring Arthur's cold stare. He turned to Alfred.

"Why yes! Of course I know my...dear friend Arthur!" He said with a happy voice, holding out his hand to shake hands with Alfred. "And who might you be?"

"I'm Alfred!" Alfred said, firmly shaking hands with Oliver. Oliver smiled a big, fake smile.

"It's wonderful to meet you!" He laughed politely, then fake coughed. "Excuse me, I'm quite parched. Would you mind getting me something to drink?"

Arthur's cold stare didn't break away from Oliver as he spoke.

"Yes, Alfred, would you mind fetching Oliver a cup of tea from the kitchen?"

"Sure!" Alfred swung open the screen door and stepped into Arthur's house. Arthur didn't speak until he was sure Alfred had gone inside. His voice turned as cold as his stare.

"Listen, you." He said to Oliver. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, acting all nice and innocent to Alfred, but it won't work. And I thought I told you never to return here again! You aren't welcome in my house!"

"What? I'm not trying to pull a trick on you, dear Arthur." Oliver said, obviously being sarcastic. He smiled a wicked skeleton grin and his bright blue eyes flickered with insincerity. "I'm just looking to make new friends."

Arthur was about to speak, when Alfred returned with the tea.

"Uh, Arthur? You sure this is tea? It looks like ink!" He exclaimed before handing the tea out to Oliver.

"Oh, actually, look at the time...I really must be going." Oliver said. "Why don't we meet up tomorrow for a little picnic in the park?" He grinned at Alfred and Arthur.

"I dunno, a picnic? Sounds really gay. Can I at least bring some beer or something?" Alfred questioned, putting down the tea.

"Sure, why not. Let's say, four o'clock tomorrow afternoon?" Oliver confirmed. Arthur shot Alfred a sharp and obviously objective glance, but as usual, Alfred didn't listen.

"Sure, we'll see you then." Alfred said before Oliver stepped off the porch and began walking away. Arthur covered his face with the palm of his hand, disappointed with Alfred. He gave an irritated sigh.

Oliver walked away at an even pace, his back turned to the two. He grinned the same eerie skeleton grin.

"By the end of tomorrow, I should have a new batch of cupcakes made." He muttered to himself as his eyes glazed over with a look of insanity. It was at that moment that the sun sank over the horizon, leaving the world enveloped in the black of night. Arthur and Alfred still sat on the porch, and Arthur knew that they were in for a lot of trouble.


	2. Chapter 2: Picnic

**Author's Note: Ciao, everypersons! I'm sorry that these are such short chapters, I really have no explanation for that, other than the fact that I get writer's block a lot ^-^" Mi dispiace! And I'm sorry if Alfred seems out of character. Oh well, here's chapter 2! Andiamo~**

_**In this fanfiction, I use the character's human names. If you don't know them, here they are: America - Alfred F. Jones,**_

_**England - Arthur Kirkland, and 2p! England - Oliver Kirkland**_

It was around three thirty the next day, and Alfred was packing a bag for the picnic. He had made sure there was plenty of junk snacks and a couple of bottles of beer. He was placing a bottle into the basket when Arthur burst through the door, causing Alfred to drop it on the floor.

"Alright, I guess I had that coming for me, since I made you drop that cup of ink...I mean tea. What's up?" He looked at Arthur, ignoring the broken glass on the floor.

"Alfred, you can't go to that picnic with Oliver." Arthur said, concerned.

"Why not? You jealous?" Alfred teased.

"No, Alfred. Not only is a picnic with Oliver completely gay and unlike you, it's dangerous! He'll kill you!" Arthur raised his voice.

"What're you talking about, Arthur? The guy wears a freakin' pink sweater vest. I don't think he's dangerous." Alfred laughed. Arthur's voice turned deadly serious.

"Alfred. The guy tortures people and makes bloody cupcakes out of them!" He was clearly trying as hard as he could to make Alfred listen, but he wouldn't.

"Arthur, you're delusional. If you think he's going to kill me, then come with me!" Alfred pouted. Arthur sighed.

"Fine, but only to prove a point, and to save your sorry arse." Arthur spoke solemnly, and habitually cleaned up the broken glass off the floor. He knew Alfred wouldn't do it himself, anyways. A few minutes later, the two started off towards the park. When they got within eyesight of the first picnic table, Arthur got an extremely uneasy feeling. There was Oliver, sitting at the table, a basket of what looked like cupcakes sitting to his left.

"You made it!" Oliver spoke with a mock-polite grin. He waved his hand in the air the way Alfred had the day before. Alfred and Arthur sat across from him at the table. Alfred carelessly tossed his bag of junk food onto the table, causing the beer bottles to clink against each other.

"Yeah, we made it!" Alfred exclaimed, taking a bag of chips out of the bag and offering them to Oliver. "Chips?" He said cheerfully. Oliver shook his head.

"Uh, I'm on a diet." He made an excuse.

"Really? You've got a huge basket of cupcakes there, though." Alfred protested, already halfway done with the bag of chips. Oliver grinned maliciously.

"Oh, these?" He gestured to the cupcakes. "These are my special recipe! I made them for you guys." He spoke politely, handing Alfred and Arthur each a cupcake.

"Awesome!" Alfred looked excitedly at the pink-frosted cupcake. Arthur eyed the cupcake suspiciously.

"What did you put in this?" He spoke coldly. Oliver's voice perked up cheerfully. He placed a hand on his chest over where his heart would be.

"You don't trust me, Artie? It's flour, eggs, milk, butter and icing, poppet." He spoke steadily and convincingly. '_And a drop of chloroform...'_ He thought to himself, but didn't say it out loud.

"I don't trust you. I won't eat this. Alfred, don't-" He was too late. Alfred took a bite of the cupcake.

"Hey, this isn't half bad! It's definitely...better...than..." His voice trailed off and his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious on the ground. Arthur rushed to his side.

"Alfred! Are you alright? Alfred!" He shouted and immediately turned towards Oliver, angrily. "What did you put in those cupcakes!?" He demanded.

"Oh, just chloroform. Nothing too bad." Oliver spoke casually, smiling evilly. "Now be a good boy and eat yours, too!" He picked up another cupcake. Arthur shook his head. He was about to take Alfred and run, but it was too late for that. Oliver pulled something out of the basket and in seconds was directly over Arthur, a look of sheer insanity in his face. He held a thick metal rod over his head.

"Nighty night, Artie." He laughed, and hit Arthur upside the head with the metal rod. The last thing Arthur saw before he blacked out was Oliver's evil grin smiling down at him.


	3. Chapter 3: Captive

**Ciao! In this fanfiction, I use the character's human names. If you don't know them, here they are: America - Alfred F. Jones**

**England/Britain - Arthur Kirkland, 2p! England/Britain - Oliver Kirkland**

_**~*~*~*~*Andiamo!*~*~*~*~*~**_

When Arthur regained consciousness, he found himself in a pitch-black room where he couldn't see a single thing. He blinked his eyes to get used to the darkness, and saw he was in a small boxed-in area with no windows and a heavy metal door. His arms were tied around his waist by a thick rope.

"Goddamned Oliver..." He said to himself. The next thought that crossed his mind was Alfred. What had become of him? Was it too late? '_No, it couldn't be too late...'_ He thought. He made his priority to get free of the ropes and find Alfred. He thought for a moment how he could free himself from the ropes, and then realized that Oliver had not been smart enough to empty his pockets. Arthur had a small pocket knife with him. He was able to reach his hand far enough from the ropes to reach his pocket. He flicked open the knife and began to saw through the ropes.

After what seemed like a long time, he had cut himself free. He sheathed the pocket knife and stood up, only to find himself with a splitting headache from standing too quickly. He reached his hand up to the back of his head where Oliver had hit him, and found a surprising amount of dried blood. He shook the startling thought from his mind and kept walking towards the metal door. It was all he could do not to fall unconscious again. He felt around the metal door for some sort of handle, but there was none. It was locked from the outside like some sort of safe. He tried prying open the corners of the door, but it was no use. There was no way out.

Meanwhile, Alfred was just regaining consciousness as well, only he found himself in a slightly different situation. His vision was still a little fuzzy from the chloroform, and he, too, was tied up. He was in a safe-like room, but the lights were on and he could see everything. There was blood splattered all over the walls. Everywhere. Some splatters even spelled out the words 'help' or 'save me'. He began to panic. Where was Arthur?

He stood up carefully, unbalanced since his arms were tied, but not his feet. As soon as he stood, a sharp pain came over him and he fell back to the floor. It was then that he noticed the blood stains on his pants around his ankles. Oliver had slit open his ankles so he wouldn't be able to walk. Now Alfred really began to panic.

"Help! Is anybody there? Help me!" He shrieked, sincerely hoping Arthur was nearby. "Arthur!"

"Well, well, well...look who's awake!" Oliver's ominous voice came from behind the door. Now he wished he had stayed quiet. The fragile hinges of the door gave a loud protest as the heavy metal door creaked slowly open. Oliver stepped in, bearing the scariest smile Alfred had ever seen. His vest was spattered with blood.

"Good morning, Alfred. How are you on this fine day?" He laughed maniacally.

"Let me go!" Alfred's voice trembled. "Where's Arthur? What have you done with him?" He shouted.

"Now, now. No need to shout." Oliver spoke casually. "I assure you, poppet. Artie is fine. It's your own well-being you should be concerned about." He smiled wickedly as he pulled a large knife out of his back pocket. Alfred screamed loudly with sheer terror.

_**Author's Note: I FEEL LIKE ALFIE IS SO OUT OF CHARACTERRRR I'M SO SORRY**__**DX But if it helps, think of it this way: People tend to act different when faced with a life-or-death situation, right? THAT HELPS, RIGHT?**_

Back in Arthur's safe, he had heard Alfred's scream and began to panic.

"Oh no...Alfred!" He shouted, and flung himself against the metal door, crashing into it at full force. He winced as his shoulder hit the hard surface. There wasn't even a dent in the door. He caught his breath and slammed into the door again. Still nothing but a hurt shoulder. He backed up to the wall on the opposite side of the room, and caught his breath. He inhaled deeply, and ran full-force into the door. He felt the bones in his shoulder cry in protest as his shoulder was crushed against the metal.

The fragile hinges snapped and the door fell with a loud crash onto the concrete floor. Arthur placed a hand on his now-bleeding shoulder. He'd have to deal with that later. His first priority was Alfred's life. He stepped out of the room, finding himself in a long corridor of a hallway. He turned in the direction in which he heard Alfred scream, and began to run. His shoulder ached, his headache was pounding, but he kept running.

"Alfred!" He called. "Alfred, can you hear me!?"

Oliver had started walking towards Alfred when heard Arthur approaching. He smiled.

"Looks like we've got company." He laughed, twirling the knife around his finger. He jumped out into the hallway, knife pointed outward, just as Arthur ran up to where he was standing. He saw Oliver standing there only a fraction of a second before the knife was impaled into his stomach.

"Agh!" Arthur exclaimed as he coughed up a handful of blood and fell to his knees.

"Arthur!" Alfred cried out and attempted to crawl over. Oliver noticed him. He gave an irritated growl, and pulled the knife out of Arthur's stomach, who was now lying curled up on the floor with his hand over the open wound, whimpering pitifully. His breaths came in shallow gasps.

"A pesky one, aren't you, poppet? I think you'll stay over there!" Oliver exclaimed, and flung the knife at Alfred, cutting through the ropes and impaling his arm. Alfred shouted in pain and Oliver smirked.

"Neither of you are going anywhere."


End file.
